Oil and Vinegar
by Skylarcat
Summary: House. Cuddy. Lovemaking. The End. :P


**Title:** Oil and Vinegar  
**Author:** Skylarcat  
**Classification:** Huddy, One shot.  
**Rating**: R  
**Feedback:** Yes, please.  
**Summary:** House. Cuddy. Lovemaking. The End.  
**Note:** House and Cuddy are characters that belong to David Shore, Fox Broadcasting, and Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions. Yes, I have used them without permission. However, no copyright infringement is intended. And I will return them intact and a lot more satisfied.

Oil and vinegar. They didn't mix. But, somehow, together they just made sense. That is how they were. Oil and vinegar. He was oil; dark and mysterious, thick with layers hiding his soul. Though, she was able to find a way in. She was vinegar; delicate and alluring. When they mixed, it was fire; intense and vivid.

Colorful; that night, in hues of red; passionate. That's how he remembered it. Like keys on a piano, precise and fragile. That first stroke creating either a masterpiece or a disaster. She hummed underneath his touch, like a familiar song; the words bringing him back to life.

There, within the secret folds of a world, where only the two of them existed; safe from ridicule or pretentious facets of personalities masquerading for the naked eye, they were bare. Their secrets and their bodies naked for each other's viewing. Their only friend was the moonlight; the only witness of their scared bonding. Oil and vinegar; coming together.

Her skin was soft under his touch. Apricot-hued and delicately ripen beneath his hand. The essence of silk against grain, and he wanted to become lost inside her. He kissed her collarbone gently. She tasted sweetly, like honey or nectar, and his lips sought her like air, like life. A moan escaped her then, like an animal being released from his cage. Her body shaking slightly, much like his own.

His fingers traced the curves of her body in such a familiar fashion, as though remembering how to play a beloved instrument. It had been awhile, but he still knew which strings would bring beautiful music, which places to touch to make her sing. It was natural for them.

She arched her back, meeting his touch; her hands gripping the sheets tightly; his name falling from her lips. Even her voice was like music. Each hush declaration falling upon the pillows in soft whispers, like the darkness of her hair; soft secrets upon white.

A few raven locks fell across the creamy flesh of her shoulder; and he gently brushed them aside, his lips exploring her exposed skin. Biting slightly until he heard her soft moan, he then used his tongue to soothe the area before turning his attentions to her neck. Her body held such secrets and he was determine to discover each one.

Her body was poetry; a perfect puzzle. A perfect fit against his own. Oil and vinegar. They made sense together.

She moved slightly, lifting her leg so he came to rest between her thighs. Careful of his leg, he meant her like fire meeting gasoline. An explosion of heat and warmth. She closed her eyes and he quickened the pace. Oil and vinegar coming together never tasted so good.

Her name resided upon his lips like a prayer, and if she were a religion, then he was a believer. Even broken men needed healing.

Her blue-gray eyes regarded him with such care, that for a moment he didn't move. The intensity she provided filling him, making him whole. Tonight it would be different. No games. And he lowered, kissing her on her lips. They swelled beneath his; bruised and pink. They both were so close now.

Her arm instinctively wrapped around his neck, her other hand gripping his shoulder tightly. And he continued each thrust, going deeper then the last. In her secret garden, the only place he felt safe. He was safe with her.

The perspiration glistering from both their bodies in the glow of the moonlight; like cork-trapped wine they exploded; crashing against each other. Oil and vinegar coming together as one.

And they would never speak of that night again. But he often remembered it; a song he would never forget. Replayed it in his mind a thousand times; red, white, pink. Oil. Vinegar.


End file.
